


Student

by Valaks



Category: Alex Rider - Anthony Horowitz
Genre: Alex fails, Alex in a collar, Always a Student Alex, Angstober, Bad decisions breed bad decisions, Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Verse, It’s not sexy, One Shot Collection, Regret In All Its Forms, Side character death warning, Yassen is a Tough Teacher, it hurts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2021-01-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:08:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25570348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valaks/pseuds/Valaks
Summary: Yassen is a patient teacher. Not always kind, not always merciful, but always patient ... even when Alex isn't the most willing student. It takes years to shape a teenager into a future Head of SCORPIA and Yassen has a lot of lessons to teach, all of them practical.  A collection of one shots set in Pongnosis’ Devil and the Deep Blue Sea.Failure (Chapters 3-6): Even with the might and resources of SCORPIA behind him, Alex knew that at some point he was going to fail. It was inevitable. Every mission couldn’t be perfect, Santa Catarina and Kurst had proven that, but he had somehow come out of both of those on his feet. There would be no recovering from this.
Comments: 44
Kudos: 142
Collections: AR Angstober 2020, Devil and the Deep Blue Sea Inspired Works





	1. Recoil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pongnosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pongnosis/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Devil and the Deep Blue Sea](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10222295) by [pongnosis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pongnosis/pseuds/pongnosis). 



**Chapter One: Recoil**

Ever since he had come to Russia he had been waiting. He had shot every single gun the considerable armory Yassen had stored here with increasing proficiency. 

Except the sniper rifles. 

Alex wasn’t stupid. Objectively he knew what accepting Yassen’s offer would mean. Yassen was an assassin, he would train Alex to be one too. It still hadn’t stopped the wince that had come when he had first seen them. It made it more real. Shooting one would only make it worse but there was no going back. 

He had thought they would have been one of the first things the man would put in his hands but instead they had started with side arms and hunting rifles. Alex was familiar with them and had enough experience with those to be comfortable. Ian had made sure of that. He had taken him to his first gun range on his tenth birthday after hours of lecture about safe handling and many of the same discussions on safety and cleaning that Yassen had put him through again. Alex hadn’t dared tell Yassen about that though, the man could probably tell he had some experience but with his luck there would be something Ian had left out that Yassen would hold him responsible for. 

The massive text the assassin had given him filled in a lot of holes but there were some things that the book didn’t cover, things that only came with years of experience handling firearms in a variety of conditions. Like how the early editions of the Sig Sauer P320, a common gun for American police and Army didn’t include a mechanical disconnect which made it prone to drop fires or that the P229 Enhanced Elites failed to expel the spent brass and would jam, or that the Glock 17 was the preferred handgun in weather under -20C (which he hoped he would never be in but, depending on how long he was in Russia, he might not have a choice). They were small things but they could save his life one day. For Yassen to know them they had probably been hard earned lessons. 

He learned about the sniper rifles just as he did everything else. Lectures, then disassembling and cleaning, then demonstrations by Yassen, but they hadn’t moved on to live firing yet. He had waited for the day to come for a month now. A month of diligently taking notes while Yassen explained every piece and part and how to repair and clean it. A month of hours disassembling and reassembling until he swore he could do it in his sleep. Maybe unconscious too. A month of cleaning it religiously every night along with the rest of the armory. A month of watching Yassen practice while explaining positioning and grip and how to take in external factors. 

But never once firing a shot.

Today changed that. 

Yassen had silently handed him an SR 25, bringing a second rifle along for himself. Alex found himself relieved, even a little excited. He looked for confirmation and while he was still trying to learn to read the Russian he seemed to radiate something akin to satisfaction. 

They went out to the long range. It was a swath of trees that had been largely cleared before Alex arrived but they had made progress clearing more. Chopping down a tree with an axe provided a good workout and wood for the coming winter. It was just as efficient and pragmatic as he expected from Yassen. Their other workouts, outside of close combat training, were similarly situated to the surroundings - hikes, runs, chopping firewood and transporting stacks of it a kilometer back to the cabin, even clearing the rocky and rough soil with a push plow. The plow was the worst. It was nothing short of brutal. Yassen usually reserved it for the end of the day and even then only when Alex was filled with restless energy or had not performed quite up to standard. 

They checked the guns thoroughly, he had never quite been able to shake the tension that the man would find something wrong - some part he had missed or a spot he had failed to fully clean. It had happened at first but it had been a while, Alex would prefer it to never happen again. Yassen appeared satisfied because he moved to assembling and Alex followed suit. He set up the gun with practiced motions from hours of handling it but Yassen’s was already on the ground waiting long before he finished. He laid prone and placed the butt up against his shoulder and extended his elbows to the sides as close to the angles that a Yassen had corrected the last time he had been allowed to handle the weapon. Still there were small adjustments to be made - a gentle kick to his right ankle widened his stance, a nudge to his left elbow moved it up and he adjusted that hand’s grip noticing that the prior position had strained him by comparison. The man crouched and shifted the butt of the gun just a millimeter or two to the left. He tried to internalize the feelings of the new positions so he could recreate them the next time. 

Satisfied, the Russian laid down next to him. And passed him a magazine. Alex checked it over then slotted it in with a satisfying  _ click _ . Finally. He looked over for permission. 

“200 meters. One round.” The man hadn’t even looked away from his own scope. His voice was the soft, calm murmur he took on whenever his cheek was pressed up against the butt of a rifle. 

Alex didn’t bother nodding, just turned back to the scope and found the designated target taped to a mound of earth and rock they had built up for precisely this purpose. He tried to relax the tension in each muscle. Clenching then unclenching from his feet to his face. Using the time to even out his breathing. He stilled. Then with a slight pressure, pulled the trigger. The gun kicked back into his shoulder but it wasn’t as painful as he had expected. He found the target in his scope. 

Nothing. 

He missed. 

No, wait he had hit it but only barely, just a small indentation on the corner of the paper target was the only proof that he even fired beside the spent casing. Not even in the rings. 

He hesitantly looked over, expecting disappointment but there was none. Just a neutral expression but with the air of patience that Alex had come to recognize as his ‘teacher face’. 

“You over anticipated the recoil.” 

He had. Had seen the way the gun had jerked Yassen’s shoulder every time he fired and expected it to be far worse for him. Yassen had more experience and strength than him but he didn’t tense with it, just let it happen. It made sense, recoil would happen regardless of experience. 

Alex nodded.

“You have felt it now, there is nothing to fear. Again.” He ordered. 

Alex ran through his exercise again, calming the fear of a second failure as best he could and then focused on the target. He took a steadying breath and pulled the trigger again. The gun kicked but he barely noticed it with his entire focus on the target. This time he made it in the second ring. He was prevented from looking over for approval by two more magazines being stacked next to him. It was as much praise as he would get.

“Again.” 


	2. Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ever since that fateful meeting in Dubai, Alex had been pushed to his limits. He would pay any price for success even at the expense of his own health. But even that has limits and if Alex insisted on pushing at them Yassen would help him find them.

Montenegro had been a nightmare. Four months. Three strike teams. Two assassination attempts - one on him and one on their primary contact and a partridge in a pear tree. It was a disaster through and through. But it was over and he had succeeded and that’s all that mattered. 

He hoped. 

Dr. Three and Yassen had only become more critical as time passed. He had quickly learned that while success was not optional there were varying degrees with a million factors that determined where he fit on a sliding and very nebulous scale. The factors were slowly being added. Cost had been first. The bunker busters in Australia had made that particular operation far more expensive than it should have been. It had been a year since then and the snakehead had just now broken even from his initial acquiring of it. 

After that it had been a never ending cascade - developing contacts, operational stability, effective asset utilization, obtaining other business interests in the area, and gaining favors from intelligence agencies and other entities “ _ Never do anything for free, Alex, if you’re eliminating someone chances are governments want them gone too _ .” It was no longer as simple as go in, meet the objectives, and get out. He missed those days. Those days meant he could sleep and eat something that was not a sandwich while he poured over reports and gave briefings. Sagitta did their best to try and keep up with him. They tried to lighten the load but there was nothing to be done for it. Most of the things that kept him up at night were things only he could handle. Reports only he could give. 

Still, he didn’t miss the critical eyes on him.

Sagitta had been watching him more and more closely, getting more and more aggressive with trying to get him to eat and sleep and drink. He was grateful, in a way. If they hadn’t, he probably would have dropped a long time ago. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to take care of himself. He did. But there were only so many hours in a day and he needed every single last one to keep from failing. The only thing that hadn’t fallen by the way side was his near religious 2 hour workouts. Yassen would know if he skipped on those and the price for  _ that _ failure would be high and harsh so he always made time for that. Otherwise, he tried to get through as best he could. He always did well during the initial part of the operation when it was planning and logistics and  _ calm _ . But when shit hit the proverbial fan he was lucky to get even a few hours of sleep in. Yassen’s daily four hours seemed more like a goal he would love to reach than some unattainable God-like power that he first thought. He could crash at the end of the mission just like he did every time. All he had to do was make it through the debrief. Then he could sleep.

He knocked back the last of the energy drink as they neared the high rise. It had become a staple when he got off the plane. A habit that Yassen would  _ strongly  _ disapprove of but would hopefully  _ never _ find out about. As they came to a stop at a traffic light, Ivey pulled a tan container from his pocket and held it out. 

Concealer?

He looked up in confusion.

“You look like hell and Mr. Gregorovich won’t just take that out on you.” 

Fuck.

He hadn’t even considered that. 

Alex practically snatched it out of his hand and flipped the mirror down. Damn, he did look bad. The concealer wouldn’t do much to hide the bags under his eyes but it would make the dark circles less noticeable. At this point he would take what he could get. 

“Why? Has he said anything?” He asked as he used the wand to smear it under his eyes.

“Told Marcus to keep an eye out in case you hadn’t figured that out from all of his nagging.”

He really should have. Marcus could be a nag but he had been significantly worse this op. Alex had just brushed it off as him being stressed after the assassination attempt but that was what marked the operation going to hell in a hand basket. There wouldn’t have been much of a need before then. If Yassen was worried enough to bring it up to Marcus behind his back….hell. He took another glance in the mirror, suddenly noticing all the tells of exhaustion that Yassen would pick up on. It was normal, though. Yassen could handle grueling operations with grace but Alex was still learning. He didn’t have 15 years of field experience yet. If it was just about sleep he might be able to sell it with that, but given the number of water bottles and plates of food that had been piled up on his desk by Marcus, he doubted that was it.

The concealer was as good as it could get without being too obvious or too overworked. He looked at his hands, Yassen would notice the makeup smudges.

“There’s hand sanitizer in the glove box. Here’s some eye drops too.” He set them on top of the console. 

Should have put those in first but Ivey wouldn’t know that. He had never worn makeup in his life and probably never would. Then again, almost 5 years ago Alex would say that he never would either. Obviously hadn’t stopped him.

He worked the gel in between his fingers doing his best to scrub it off of him or at least blend it in.

“Need me to take another lap?” Alex considered it. It would be too suspicious. 

“No. Head in. I’ll make it quick.” He said, snapping the plastic off the cap and hurriedly dropping them in before they turned into the cameras. He dabbed at the excess trying his best to keep it from smudging the concealer and glanced back in the mirror and touched up the corners. Passable if no one was looking too closely. Unfortunately, Yassen definitely would be. “Next time he approaches you about something like this I better know about it.”

“Talk to Marcus.” Ivey returned, “I imagine if he didn’t say anything to you he had a damn good reason.” 

_ Like a threat from Yassen _ went unsaid. 

Alex took a steadying breath as they rolled to a stop then stepped confidently out and walked purposefully toward the elevators. He hated them but there was no way he was walking up 50 flights of stairs. Especially not when it would make him late.

Thankfully, the elevator was empty when it opened. Probably by design. They owned the building and the staff. Alex was grateful, he didn’t need any more stress right now. No matter how many times he went back to this office, it still put him on edge. Dr. Three probably enjoyed that about it. He had gotten much better about hiding his feelings but Three was an expert in reading people and Alex was still hardly a challenge. 

The doors to the office were already open when he arrived. He sailed past the guards and took his spot in front of the table as they were shut behind him. At least they had the decency to not make him wait. The room was silent as Yassen studied him carefully, his lips thinning noticeably. 

Damn. 

Dr. Three wasn’t much better, his eyes lingered just a little too long with the cursory once over he was given. 

“Report.” 

“The coup was a success and was completed according to the parameters of our client under time and budget. NATO has rescinded their offer and the Russian government has recognized the new government. We were able to obtain bids from other interested parties to place their own people into position and gained access to the ANB database.”

They knew all of that but that was how these things went. 

“How long do you think the new government will be stable for?” 

“A year or two at the most and that’s if the Russians were to step in. There was already a strong resistance movement against the pro-Russian faction before we even staged the coup. Both sides are too unstable now, but I anticipate the situation will flare to armed conflict within the next 3 months.”

“You did not take any steps to stabilize the situation.” Dr. Three observed. 

“The client and the other interested parties didn’t want to pay for our services in maintaining the peace.” That wasn't a surprise to anyone. The client wouldn’t want to, mainly because they didn’t care what happened to the small nation. The Russian oligarchs who paid for their services just didn’t want NATO that close to their collective door and the other interested parties didn’t have the funds to pay for stability. The nation would be thrown into civil war in short order. Dr. Three and Yassen would see it as yet another business opportunity. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was back there in 3 or 4 years when NATO came knocking again. If he did, he would make the Oligarchs pay through the nose because it would be a bitch to pull off a second coup and the first one hadn’t been that easy either.

“You did not see a business opportunity in maintaining the coup?”

It was a test more than a legitimate question. “NATO will be watching the situation carefully. If we took any further steps we would only confirm that we were behind it and draw their attention. The secondary objective of our operatives was to remain anonymous.”

“The secondary objective was to be profitable.” Yassen corrected and he was right but Alex was ready for that too.

“I did not want to hinder future business opportunities. If we were to be too direct the western intelligence agencies may decide that we are in Russia’s back pocket and take their business elsewhere.”

Yassen nodded in approval. An easy victory but he would take what he could get. 

“And what of our teams in the area?” 

“All non essential assets will be withdrawn within the week. I briefed our trafficking rings and they will be stepping in once the conflict ignites.” The statement was as neutral as he could possibly get it. It had taken more than a little self control to hold those meetings but he had done it because if he didn’t he would be sent back to do it, possibly with the order to be more hands on with their business as punishment. 

“Did you see any other opportunities in the area?”

“We could have some of our arms contacts reach out to the resistance.”

“Why didn’t you act proactively on that?” Yassen asked evenly.

Was that sincere or a test? Yassen’s poker face was impenetrable. He didn’t know why he even tried. It had to be a test. Well, he hoped, because he really thought he had taken the right steps by being cautious on their involvement. 

“Acting against the interests of our clients during the operation could hinder future business opportunities with them and acting on it now would draw unnecessary attention from all parties.” He had noted as much in his written reports and basically said as much earlier. Alex wanted to point out that if they had thought it advisable they could have told him a month ago when he had first brought it up. He also wanted to go to sleep and challenging them would only drag this out further. 

“We have third party contacts who could have benefitted from the contract and paid for the tip off.” Dr. Three observed.

Alex’s heart froze.

Damn it. He hadn’t considered that. Had only focused on the mission and making SCORPIAs reputation come out intact. 

He had failed.

“I missed the opportunity. I will reach out to them immediately.”

Yassen and Dr. Three could have mentioned it to him earlier but they wanted him to fail so he could learn how to handle it constructively. He had shown that he struggled with it quite clearly. Yassen had walked him through the appropriate response after the first time - Acknowledge and Act. It was easy in theory until you were staring down the world’s foremost authority on torture and the man who had effectively molded him into what he was now. They wouldn’t inflict any lasting harm but they wouldn’t have to. Mainly because the feeling of failure was enough to make Alex pliable to their wishes.

“It will be unnecessary. We have already notified them. They have begun the bidding process.” 

Of course they had already cleaned up his mess. They wouldn’t even let him fix it to feel slightly better about it. Realistically, he knew it was because it was time sensitive, Alex being forced to deal with the failure without the crutch of getting to correct it was just a bonus.

“Yes, sir.” 

The two shared a look. Was that it? Was he going to get off that easy? He had overthrown a country’s government and almost been assassinated, he expected more push back. 

“You are dismissed.” Yassen stated but made no indication that he wanted Alex to wait. Fine with him. He wouldn’t look that horse in the mouth.

He had just reached the doors when Dr. Three stopped him “Alex?” 

“Sir?” 

“Get some sleep, you look dead on your feet.” It was that innocent, concerned tone that had  _ never _ meant anything good for Alex.

“Yes, sir” Not getting off easy, then. He had almost forgotten his earlier anxiety in the face of his failure. He only breathed a sigh of relief when the doors shut behind him. He was sure they had something planned but it could wait until after he slept or they would have handled it now. It would be a waiting game but he was too exhausted to start playing now.

……...

Yassen let him sleep for three merciful days. True to form he hadn’t even emerged until the second day. After that he hadn’t needed to. Every time he woke up there were two bottles of water and a plate of calorie rich food next to his bed. He was grateful, even if he could barely finish half the plate. It was strange, Yassen usually enjoyed seeing him stumbling about half conscious if for nothing else than just to know he was alive. He didn’t really think much of it until he finally woke up with his wits about him on the third day. And when he did think of it, his blood chilled.

Yassen had been concerned enough about his health to go to Marcus. Had obviously been unhappy with his state when he gave his report. Knew just how bad off he had been from controlling his food and water for the last two days. Suddenly the kind gesture had a darker tone to it. He wasn’t going to make it out of this unscathed. 

What was Yassen planning? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. The best he could hope for was a lecture but he never got off lightly. Not when it had to do with his health and especially not when it was something that they had extensively covered before, even if that had been 4 years ago in Russia. The number of calories and sleep he needed had changed since then but he had been informed about the changes every time Dr. Javarti checked him over. There was no excuse that would be good enough. Best to get it over with, whatever it was. 

He walked into his en suite and saw a combat outfit already laid out, boots and all.

He took the hint - showered and dressed and hesitantly made his way to Yassen’s office. As soon as he entered Yassen looked up from his laptop and studied him. 

“Feeling rested?” there wasn’t even a drop of sincere concern in that question. 

Not good. 

Yassen never asked that and especially not in that tone.

“Yes, sir”

“Good. Let’s go.” 

He didn’t bother asking where. He had a feeling he already knew, the white Mercedes waiting for them outside was enough of a clue. The ride to Malagosto was silent. The grounds of the school even more so. Where were the students? Maybe on an exercise or with the Countess. He had a feeling wherever they were it was to keep them away from whatever Yassen had planned for him, the knot in the pit of his stomach tightened. 

Dr. Javarti was waiting for them the moment they entered the clinic. She directed him to a bed and Yassen took his place leaning silently against the wall as she ran him through a physical. They hadn’t even done this before RTI. Alex almost threw up at the thought. He wouldn’t, would he? If it would get the point across, Yassen would do it. The fact that he was still here with him meant that it was a distinct possibility. 

“He’s a little dehydrated but not more so than most. I could start an IV…” she wasn’t even talking to him. Just to Yassen. 

“No. This should be sufficient.” Yassen turned his steely blue gaze to him. “Remember how you feel now - fully rested and at the height of your mental acuity and strength.”

No. Not good.

Something must have shown on his face. “You keep pushing your limits in the field, Alex. I would be remiss in not helping you find them in a more controlled environment.”

_ Fuck _ . 

“Come. Let’s get started.” 

Alex slowly trailed behind him as they walked out to the armory. There wasn’t a soul in sight. Not even Ross. The range was clear of the tang of gun smoke. It hadn’t been used today at all then, which meant no one was here. Malagosto had been cleared for him so Yassen could teach him this lesson in private. 

At least he had done that. It was going to be bad enough without an audience.

He turned for instruction. “You will disassemble, reassemble, shoot 10 rounds and clean every type of gun in the armory.”

Assuming nothing had changed there were roughly 100 unique firearms for him to go through. It would take him  _ hours _ . 

He didn’t bother mentioning that. Just went over to the unlocked room and got started. He expected Yassen to leave. Instead, the man pulled a laptop out from a bag stashed near the wall and settled down to work. Great. He would be watched too.

Alex flew through the guns with practiced motions. Some were easier than others. His time in Russia and Malagosto had made him comfortable with all of them but some he hadn’t touched in  _ years _ . He stumbled over a few, noting Yassen’s eyes trail up when his hands hesitated or slowed, no doubt taking a mental note of the model for future practice. 

The firing went a lot smoother. Shooting Alex could do. Perfect scores each time. 10 rounds was nothing when speed didn’t matter and the targets remained stationary. As he finished cleaning the last set he expected the man to tell him to do it all again with moving targets but instead he just closed the laptop and set it to the side. 

“Sparring mats. Begin your workout routine.” Yassen ordered. Alex didn’t hesitate, just took off at a run to Yermalov’s domain. He was grateful that the man wasn’t around. Yassen intended to run him into the ground and he didn’t need Yermalov’s help to do it. The fact that the instructor wasn’t here was another clue. He would never let anyone on his mats alone without supervision. If there was a chance to teach he would be here. That he wasn’t meant that the teachers had likely been ousted too. The thought that SCORPIAs entire elite school had been sent away for this was a testament to how serious Yassen and Dr. Three took it. Dr. Three in particular, with his deep appreciation for the school and its role in keeping SCORPIA competitive, wouldn’t clear the grounds if he didn’t think it was absolutely vital. Alex had fucked up big time to earn this kind of reaction from the good doctor. He wondered if Yassen would hand him over to Three next. Maybe after sparring. 

Surprisingly, he was wrong. 

“Range.” The man ordered as Alex climbed back to his feet after being batted harshly back down to the mat for the 7th time in an hour. It took him a second to process the command.

When he did, he wasn’t sure he would have rather gone to Dr. Three. They were going to repeat this over and over again, probably until he collapsed. It had taken roughly 6 hours the first time. There was no telling how long it would drag out for after this. 

He looked up to Yassen for confirmation. 

“I will expect you to take note of how your reaction times and decision making slow as the lack of sleep and water set in.” He wouldn’t let him drink anything either. Alex had been too nervous to ask before. Now he was glad he didn’t. He’d likely get some comment about how if he didn’t need it on a major operation then he wouldn’t need it here. 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Range. Now.” The man commanded and Alex took off at a run.

_ Disassemble. Reassemble. Shoot. Clean. Run. Fight. 6 hours. _

There wasn’t much difference the second time he ran through the exercises. He slowed a little as he went through the guns but that was mainly because he knew he would need to conserve his energy. The frantic response to uncertainty was gone, replaced by cold clarity of what the next few days would hold. The gnawing dryness of his mouth was the worst of it. He felt like he was constantly swallowing trying to sate his thirst but it did little to stop it and soon enough he felt like he was running out of spit to swallow. He steeled himself against asking Yassen for water. He would just be told no. And it was just what the man would want. Instead, he watched covetously as the man drank from one of the many bottles he had stored next to his bag.

_ Disassemble. Reassemble. Shoot. Clean. Run. Fight. 7 hours. _

The third time through his fingers began to stumble over the parts. Not many, but enough that he noticed. Not a good sign. He was tired but not overly so. Definitely not enough that he should be having problems already. The dehydration was definitely making it worse. It would only go downhill from here. Yassen was catching him in sparring with hits that he normally would have blocked. His reaction time was slowing and he found himself tired out faster. Barely 15 minutes into sparring and he was breathing like he had run a marathon. Yassen waited until he had beaten Alex down to the mat before he spoke again. 

“Have you learned your lesson?” 

Alex glared hatefully up at him. He knew he deserved this but really they could have just  _ talked  _ to him about it first. Given him a chance. But they always had to teach him the hard way. He supposed he could add irritability to his growing list of effects.

Yassen narrowed his eyes and lashed out with another kick forcing Alex to roll out of the way and get back to his feet. 

_ Disassemble. Reassemble. Shoot. Clean. Run. Fight. Repeat. 10 hours.  _

One of Dr. Three’s assistants had joined them, monitoring Alex closely but not stepping in. Yassen used the additional supervision to sleep. Alex  _ hated _ him for it. He also hated the slight slosh of water that Yassen made sure he heard every time he took a drink. Normally the man was quiet as a fucking mouse which meant he was doing it just taunt Alex. It was working. Still, he didn’t ask for water. Still, they didn’t speak not until Yassen slammed him to the mat after another brutal hour of sparring.

“Have you learned your lesson?”

He still didn’t say anything. 

“Get up.” he ordered stiffly and Alex pulled himself up, muscles groaning in protest. 

_ Disassemble. Reassemble. Shoot. Clean. Run. Fight. Repeat. 8 hours. _

“Have you learned your lesson?” 

“Yes, sir.”

This time Yassen pulled him up off the mat and Alex stumbled, a steadying hand grabbed his shoulder then pushed him toward the door. Back to the gun range. He tried to run, but a wave of dizziness brought Alex back down to his knees. 

Yassen and the assistant were by him in an instant, carefully checking him over. 

“Just dehydrated.” The man pronounced. “He should be fine to continue.”

He wanted to protest but knew better than to expect it would do anything. Yassen nodded to the assistant and stood, holding out a hand that Alex gratefully took. He honestly wasn’t sure he could get up on his own right now.

“Walk with me.” Yassen commanded and Alex obediently fell into step next to him. 

_ Disassemble. Reassemble. Shoot. Clean. Run. Fight. Repeat. 13 hours.  _

Yassen didn’t even sleep this time. His eyes stayed on Alex. Watching as he fumbled tiredly with the small parts. Dropping more than he held steady. His hands were visibly shaking. His eyes kept drifting shut only to earn a stiff jostle from Yassen. He couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at him. He was just. So. Tired. His shooting had taken a turn for the worse two rounds ago but now it was embarrassing. He had done better when he had first started in Russia. He prayed that these scores would never make the light of day. If Ross knew he would never live it down. 

His cleaning was shit too. His hands were covered in smears of gun butter and oil that he kept having to wipe on his pants. Yassen was watching so he knew that none of the guns were in bad enough shape that they would be dangerous but from his disapproving frown they were  _ definitely _ not up to par. Alex agreed but soldiered through. As the hours dragged he began to lose focus and he found himself stopping, getting lost in what had once been a natural, ingrained rhythm. Only Yassen shaking his shoulder brought him back to the task at hand and he would tiredly try to figure out where he was at. 

The workout was a joke. He had to stop and start more times than he would ever admit as he lost his energy or his balance or his focus because it was getting  _ really  _ hard to remember what he was doing. Counting his reps was long out the window. He just went until he hit a wall and then moved to the next. Yassen didn’t stop or correct him. Just let him push himself through, 

Yassen had never been this gentle on him in sparring. Ever. But Alex needed it because if Yassen even went half as hard as they normally did he would probably be dead or at least back with Javardi with some broken bones and torn ligaments. This time Yassen didn’t have to knock him to the mat. Alex fell to his hands and knees on his own as the world spun around him. 

He distantly registered Yassen crouching down in front of him and cupping his chin, forcing him to meet his gaze. “Have you learned your lesson?” Alex was too tired to do anything other than look up at him with pleading eyes. 

Yassen studied him then nodded to someone behind him. 

No. 

No more. 

He was pulled back onto something hard and laid prone, straps pulled across him. He didn’t know why. It’s not like he could fight it right now. His eyes drifted closed but this time there was no shake to wake him. 

Alex woke up in a bed in Javarti’s clinic. The rhythmic clicking of keys told him that Yassen was sitting next to him. Of course he was. He was almost lulled back to sleep by it until it abruptly stopped.

“How are you feeling?” He tiredly cracked open his eyes and looked over.

Exhausted. Sore. Beaten down. But Yassen knew those and honestly they weren’t the strongest feelings he had right now. “I’m sorry” his voice was hoarse, barely a whisper. Yassen grabbed the large jug of water from the tray table and held the straw out for him, thankfully. It hurt just  _ thinking _ of holding it himself.

“You know your limits now. I trust we will not have to repeat this.”

“No, sir.” 

Never again. 

Ever. 

Alex got the message loud and clear - he wouldn’t get tortured for failing a mission but he would for neglecting his health. He understood it to an extent. If he weakened himself and got killed in the field because of it, all of Yassen and Three’s plans would be for naught. They could fix failures but they couldn’t fix that. This was their way of communicating that in a way that he would be unable to forget.

And he wouldn’t. 

Yassen seemed to know exactly what he was thinking and nodded. “Good. I will let Dr. Javarti know that you are awake.” 

He slumped back into the bed and closed his eyes. 

Never again. 


	3. Failure Part I: Collared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Failure is a lesson in itself.

“Marcus.” Alex murmured quietly, the man was taut like a bow string beside him, with good cause. The air of the dacha was alive with barely restrained violence. Every instinct was telling him to leave but he couldn’t. He was here on behalf of Dr. Three and he would have to trust that the threat of the man’s wrath would be enough to spare him from whatever seemed to be coming. From the sheer number of guards they had passed down the hallway he got the feeling it wouldn’t. 

“Sir?”

“Go and call Yassen.” He didn’t have time for titles. He didn’t have time for much of anything given his case of the situation. 

“Sir…” 

“Marcus. Now.” He breathed from the corner of his mouth, the man hesitated for a second and then he stepped away, shooting Adams and Shale a look. He obviously disagreed with Alex being down a man when everyone was looking at him like prey but Alex doubted that even _all_ of Sagitta could do anything with the level of security they were facing let alone the three members he had been allowed per There’s negotiation. Petrov was sending a message and that message was that there would be no escape. He just hoped that Marcus could raise the alarm in time. 

It was not an ideal situation but it hadn’t been from the start. The order had come from Dr. Three and had been simple enough - renegotiate an arms contract with a faction of the Bratva that Kurst had been close with. A year out from his death and with SCORPIA just getting back on stable footing Alex was understandably cautious. Everything about it screamed danger. But he couldn’t question Dr. Three and Yassen had been unreachable as his own operation concluded in Ecuador. He had no choice but to say yes and he was rapidly regretting that decision. He should have called Yassen, at least given him a heads up of what he was walking into,  _ where  _ he was walking into. He just hoped he lived to regret it. 

They were led into the formal sitting room and Alex had to swallow down the panic at the sight - the room was empty save for a table and a chair where Petrov, his contact was sitting smugly, surrounded by at least 20 guards. That wasn’t a guarantee that there weren’t more on hand or that he wasn’t in the sights of at least one scope from outside the large bay window. It wasn’t an entirely foreign set up for him. The men he regularly interacted with on his operations thrived in projecting power. Alex had largely grown numb to it. With the might of SCORPIA behind him and the implicit protection of Yassen Gregorovich he had little need to play these petty games. He got the feeling that implicit protection would need to be explicit given the way Petrov was looking at him. 

He didn’t turn when the doors slammed shut behind him. He didn’t miss the sound of an electric lock engaging, or the way the guns that had been passively held were suddenly pointed directly at him. He did halt his advance toward the chair that Petrov was sitting in. 

“Rider”

“Petrov” he didn’t bother with niceties. Clearly they would do him no good here. 

“I’m surprised Gregorovich sent you out to play back home without him, you should know better than to be out of the sight of your master.”

Alex ignored the jab, it wasn’t the first time someone had insinuated something along those lines. Hopefully it also wouldn’t be the last, given that would probably mean his death. If Alex wanted to survive he would have to make it clear what the consequences of that would be. He and Sagitta may be no threat right now, not up against the force they were currently facing, but that did not mean he was defenseless “Being out of Mr. Gregorocvich’s sight would be a neat trick. There is little I do that he is not aware of….and prepared for.” He had no real standing to back up that threat other than Dr. Three having sent him here. 

“I could kill you before he even stepped through the doors.”

“If you kill me I doubt you will have any doors to worry about when he is done with you.”

“Hiding behind his skirt?” the man sneered

“They’re facts. Do with them what you will.” He shrugged. 

“I would have thought after Warren you would have more bite to you.” Petrov observed

“I would have thought after Warren that you would think twice before provoking SCORPIA.” He returned evenly. 

“That’s not how I see it, SCORPIA provoked us first when they sent you here to plant spies in my ranks.” It was only 3 years in the field that kept him from flinching at the words. He shouldn’t be surprised that Petrov knew, not with the corruption in the government and certainly not with the sheer number of guards they were facing. 

There was a knock on the doors that thankfully saved him from a response. Seconds later Marcus was shoved in. Alex caught his eye and he nodded slightly. Yassen knew and he could breathe a little easier. He would probably make Alex  _ wish _ that Petrov had killed him when... _ if _ he survived whatever the man had planned. 

Petrov seemed to take them in. “Secure them.” He ordered. Everyone tensed. He could almost hear what was going through their heads - with the guards so close they might stand a fighting chance. Might. It wasn’t worth the risk he signaled them to stand down and while there was a certain reluctance to their movements they put their hands up. They were quickly searched and stripped of their clothes save for their shorts and what few weapons that had managed to sneak past the initial security. Petrov was obviously displeased at that but he didn’t do anything to acknowledge it in front of them. Alex was sure there would be some additional deaths tonight once Petrov got done with him. 

He didn’t fight as his hands and arms were roughly zip tied and cuffed securely behind him. There would be no getting out even if he was somehow given the opportunity. Alex was truly at Petrov’s mercy and there would be no one to come for him like on Santa Catarina, his only hope was Yassen and he wasn’t sure how long he would have to wait for him. He would play along until then. 

“You know, Rider, you did us a favor getting rid of Kurst.”  _ That _ was not what he had expected. He had thought this was some kind of revenge. “That’s the only reason you’re alive right now.” That and the threat of Three and Yassen’s wrath but he would keep that to himself “SCORPIA really dug into our profits.” 

“Why didn’t you just tell us to fuck off then?” It wasn’t the brightest idea to ask given his current position, from Marcus tensing beside him, he agreed but he actually did want an answer to that. 

“It wouldn’t quite send the right message.” He was an idiot, Alex concluded. Cartel leaders and mob bosses all seemed to suffer from the same deranged need to be the alpha male rather than making sound business decisions. Petrov was no different, prideful and  _ convinced _ of the superior might of his organization like so many men Alex had encountered in his position. It was hard to ignore the fact that he had done the same. Rather than turn back when he knew something was wrong he had staked his life, and the lives of Sagitta, in the protection offered by his position in SCORPIA. It was proving to be a mistake that might cost him his life and would, at the very least, cost SCORPIA a king’s ransom to get him back. He shoved the thought aside, he needed to focus on surviving. 

“Zeljan Kurst made us look like SCORPIAs bitch, I intend to make it  _ very _ clear that the roles have been reversed. I think we should start with that now.” He smirked and opened the drawer to his desk and withdrew a leather strips. Alex faltered as he recognized it. Oh  _ fuck no _ . “Can’t let a pet be out without his collar.”

“Fuck you” Alex spat. It wasn’t eloquent but he was past that point at the panic running through him. Being captured was one thing but this...this was entirely different. He lashed out in a kick at one of the guards holding him, toppling him to the ground but before he could do anything else there was a gun digging uncomfortably into the base of his spine. They probably wouldn’t shoot to kill but there were a lot of other places that would be effective deterrents.

Petrov stepped closer now that he was subdued and backhanded him roughly. Alex’s head snapped to the side and he gathered the blood in his mouth and spat it onto the man’s pristine white dress shirt. 

“Gag him.” He ordered to the guards “That’s gonna cost your master extra, Rider.” He snarled over Alex’s struggle with the guards.

“You’re lucky that Gregorovich would not take kindly to you being injured. Your companions are not as fortunate.” Alex’s mouth dried out, Sagitta. His eyes darted back, meeting Adams’ confused gaze. None of them spoke Russian, they didn’t know what was going on, he realized and that made it so much worse. 

He turned back to Petrov, doing his best to keep his expression neutral. But the man wasn’t watching him, he was surveying the group and pointed to Shale. Alex felt his breath catch in his throat.  _ No.  _

The guards didn’t have to be told. He was moved in next to Petrov and his knees were kicked out from under him. His face was one of calm resignation. Alex wanted to react, do  _ something  _ but it would only make things worse. If it appeared that it didn’t affect him Petrov may lose interest in them and take it out on Alex. Alex could take it, his life was guaranteed but Sagitta...his eyes trailed to Shale. The man caught his gaze from the corner of his eye and nodded slightly. He knew the man probably meant it to be comforting but it was like a blow to the gut. 

“I want you to watch very closely, Alex. This is what happens when you disobey. I won’t harm you but your friends will suffer.”

Suffer. Not die. He tried to take comfort in that as Petrov pulled out his pistol. The Bratva was known for knee capping. It would end his career but it would be survival and when...if Yassen got them out Alex would do everything in his power to make sure he would recover. But Petrov wasn’t pointing the pistol at Shale’s knee, he was pointing at....he looked away just in time but his mind filled in the blanks when he looked back, the spray of gore from Shale’s head did the rest.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. Not now. He had to make it through this. He met Petrov’s gaze as evenly as he could, doing his best to ignore Shale’s crumpled body beside him. “Will there be any more problems, Rider?” 

He shook his head reluctantly 

“Good boy” the man praised Alex hated him for it. It must have showed because Petrov smirked “Hold him still.” He ordered two of the guards. 

One of the men roughly grabbed his hair forcing his head still despite Alex’s straining away from Petrov’s touch. He pulled the collar tight enough where Alex could hardly breathe. “You’re Gregorovich’s favored now but how do you think that will go when he sees you like this? If I’m lucky, he might not even want you back and I can have my own little pet assassin.”  


Alex couldn’t stop his glare and the man roughly grabbed his chin “Gregorovich probably enjoys fucking that defiance out of you but that’s not my thing. Keep it up and you lose another friend after they’re gone....well...I have a few boys who wouldn’t mind putting you in your place.” It took everything in Alex’s power to not jerk himself out of the man’s grip.

“Take them down to the cells so they can say their last goodbyes. Well, the guards can.” He slid a finger under Alex’s gag mockingly before turning away. 

They were hustled through the halls and down several flights of stairs before they were pushed into a concrete room with a bucket in the corner 

He settled heavily against the back wall, ignoring the twinge in his arms at the pressure. 

“Boss…” Marcus began and Alex just shook his head. No talking. No weakness. He settled for meditating to pass the time with his eyes open because every time he closed them he saw Shale and the raw, bitter feeling of  _ failure _ almost choked him.

He and Marcus were dragged back up to the sitting room after what Alex estimated to be a few hours. The lack of windows in the cell made it difficult to tell exactly how long it had been but there was an art to feeling time pass and he had mastered it after hours spent poring over briefings and staking out buildings. He hoped to get the opportunity to again, mind numbing boredom or not.

Shale’s body was gone and he knew it was his mind playing tricks on him but he thought he could still see a pink stain on the white marble floor. “Your master’s calling, must miss you.” Petrov sneered but Alex kept his face impassive. He had lost Shale, he wasn’t losing Marcus and right now he didn’t care what it would take to make sure that didn’t happen. 

“Come.” The man ordered and the guards released him. Alex took a steadying breath but obeyed. The man stood with lead in hand and Alex settled for staring blankly over the man’s shoulder as he clipped it on. 

“Is the video conference ready? I want Gregorovich to see what’s become of his apprentice.”

Fresh horror thrummed through him. No. No Yassen didn’t need to see him, not like this. Beaten and bruised he could deal with, Yassen had seen him like that in RTI but not like this. 

“Yes, sir. Would you like me to put him through?” One of the men offered once Petrov was comfortably seated again. 

The man nodded, leaning back in his chair, hand wrapped securely around the lead. Alex calmed himself by imagining wrapping it around his throat and choking the life out of him. It’d get him shot but that may be a mercy compared to what Yassen would do to Alex. 

The screen flickered to life and Alex fought to keep his gaze from trailing to floor, Yassen would need to know that he was okay and relatively unbroken. He settled for staring at a spot on the wall, unable to bring himself to look Yassen in the eye.

“Found your pet, Gregorovich” the leash was jerked and Alex barely restrained himself from glaring hatefully at him. He needed to keep calm, unaffected. Yassen would fix this and then...he didn’t even want to consider what would come next. He had been captured and was about to cost SCORPIA millions to recover him. He wished the ground would swallow him up right then and there. He was such a failure. 

“If you are seeking to strike a deal this would not be a good start to the relationship.” Yassen said plainly 

“Odd, that is how we felt when our former business partners sent their  _ bitch _ in to court us on behalf of the SVR.”

“Interesting that you would be aware of that. I suppose you had this set up with the intent to use this as an opportunity on the misguided notion that SCORPIA will bow to your whims.”

“It’s bow or you lose your boy toy.” Yassen didn’t even blink at the misnomer. 

“If you wish to negotiate for our operative and his strike team’s release I will listen.” Listen only. No promises. Objectively Alex knew it was just posturing but there was still a part of him that feared this would be a bridge too far, a failure too large for SCORPIA to recover from and leaving him here would certainly help them save face - the Bratva had tried to negotiate with an expendable asset, attachments were above SCORPIA and they were foolish enough to believe they were not. 

“We also want SCORPIA out of Russia.”

Yassen seemed to consider that “A bold request” there was a pause and Alex stilled, was his life worth losing such a profitable territory? In Yassen’s shoes he would not blame him for refusing “but perhaps an agreement can be reached.”

He couldn’t stop the grateful look at the screen. Yassen’s gaze locked on him and he flushed under the attention, snapping his gaze back to the floor. 

“Kneel, Rider, your master and I need to talk.” Alex glared hatefully at him. No way in  _ hell _ . 

  
“ _ Alex _ .” He looked back up to Yassen’s image on the screen. He knew the order was a way out for him - he wouldn’t be kneeling for Petrov, he would be kneeling on Yassen’s order. It took away the sting a  _ little _ . His pride was still hurt but he would happily kneel for Yassen rather than give Petrov the satisfaction that it was on his order or by force. He obediently sank down. Hating every second as the man possessively curled his hand in Alex’s hair. Alex closed his eyes against the wave of humiliation, keeping his gaze locked firmly on the ground as the negotiations continued above him


	4. Failure Part II: Aftermath

“Alex.” 

He snapped his eyes back up, when had he looked away? He hadn’t even realized it, all he knew is he wanted to be anywhere else but here right now. Looking anywhere but at those cool blue eyes. He was probably imagining the disappointment in them. Was probably interpreting a mocking look that wasn’t there because Yassen was many things but petty was not one of them, at least not when it came to Alex. But that was before Alex Rider had failed. Before he had to be pulled from a Bratva cell. Before Yassen had to barter for his life on behalf of SCORPIA. Before Yassen had unclipped the collar around his neck at the exchange because he was still bound. Before everything had gone to hell.

“Sir?” He kept his tone even and formal and calm. He could do that. Alex Rider would be emotional but he’s not Alex Rider. Alex Rider died when Shale was killed and the collar was attached. Yassen didn’t get Alex back, he got Orion. That’s what he had always wanted. Alex could be that. Orion wouldn’t have gotten captured, Orion would have made better decisions, Orion didn’t have emotions, didn’t have to feel the hurt of losing Shale or the embarrassment he had caused himself and Yassen and SCORPIA. He was Orion now because Alex Rider wasn’t strong enough for this.

Over the years he had learned to read Yassen but as the debrief progressed all he saw were flashes of...something. The clench of Yassen’s jaw, the narrowing of his gaze. He was probably disappointed in him. That made two of them. Alex deserved it, deserved whatever was going to happen from here on out but....he wasn’t sure what that would be. Not when for all that Yassen was becoming more tense, Dr. Three was becoming more relaxed, his lips titling in just the slightest hint of a smile. Unsurprising. He had always gotten the feeling that Dr. Three didn’t entirely approve of headstrong, mouthy Alex Rider. It made sense Orion would be far easier to handle and maneuver and Three enjoyed that. 

Whether Orion was cut out to lead SCORPIA likely didn’t matter anymore. After St. Petersburg there was no way that he would ever be handed the reins over and that thought should upset him with all the work he and Yassen had put in, instead it calmed him. He wouldn’t have the responsibility, the lives wouldn’t be on his hands, the thought of going back to being Yassen’s second made him sick. If they weren’t going to kill him, and he wished they would, then maybe going back to just being an assassin would be tolerable. Something where the only blood on his hands was the blood he spilled himself

“Is there anything you wish to add to the report?” Dr. Three pressed. 

“No, sir” No he wanted the report over, he wanted to receive his sentence whatever it might be or get out of here and away from Yassen’s disappointment. Either would work.

“Then you are free to leave.” He nodded toward the door. Alex didn’t fight it, didn’t check for the hand signal that was likely there because he couldn’t even bear to look at Yassen - just numbly walked out. Marcus took his spot up by his side and Alex felt a lance of pain shoot through him because Sagitta should be recovering, should be anywhere but guarding the person who had gotten one of their own killed. Alex didn’t even know what to say, hadn’t said anything to any of them since he had ordered Marcus to call Yassen at the dacha. He wasn’t about to change that now. 

The ride to the first floor was silent and Alex worked hard to keep a neutral gaze while avoiding the mirrored panels of the elevator. Makeup had covered up the bruising on his neck but he still knew it was there. It didn’t hurt physically, it was a mental toll that he had been unable to escape, probably just what Petrov wanted. 

They emerged into the underground garage, Ivey was already waiting for them, eyes glancing nervously around as he held the door open. All of Sagitta had taken what happened at the Dacha hard; it made sense - Alex had been captured and Shale had been killed. A nightmare scenario that it would take a long time to recover from if they ever did at all. The ride was filled with an uneasy silence, Jarek had taken the spot next to him but to Alex it was painfully empty. Sagitta weren’t openly emotional men, neither was Alex, but when things had gotten heated and they came under fire it had been Shale’s thigh that had pressed reassuringly against him, Shale who had arched his body to cover him just in case, Shale who would share a wry look at Marcus and Adams’ bickering or arch a concerned eyebrow when Alex was tensed with a restless energy. He would never get that again and as much as his pride was wounded, that hurt so much more. 

at Marcus and the elevator ride to the flat even more so filled with a restless tension. Marcus had clearly wanted to say something but had the courtesy to wait until they were alone and away from Dr. Three. 

“Sir” he finally began hesitantly as they reached the door.

Alex didn’t even look at him, just pulled out his key

“Boss” Marcus tried again

He hurriedly typed in the code to open the retinal scanner

“Alex” he tensed then relaxed as the scanner beeped and the locks disengaged. 

“Alex, plea-“ he was cut off by the slamming door. 

He sagged against the back of it, trying to gather himself. He knew Marcus was concerned. If the roles were reversed he would be too. He should go out and apologize, should listen to Marcus and assure him that it wasn’t his fault because Marcus probably felt just as responsible as Alex did, but he wasn’t Alex Rider. He was Orion cold and emotionless and able to handle this on his own…..and maybe if he kept telling himself that he would believe it.

He looked around the apartment. It should be a comfort. Nothing had changed in the months he had spent in Ecuador and then in...his thoughts trailed off as a hand drifted up to his neck, a silent confirmation that he was free. He didn’t belong here. He wasn’t sure  _ where _ he belonged anymore but it wasn’t here. Not when Yassen would come looking for him and would press him. He had been given the courtesy of silence at the exchange and on the plane and in the medical tests after. But it couldn’t go on forever and Alex wasn’t ready for that, not right now. 

He couldn’t run, not when they had spent so much money and influence getting him back. More to add on to his debt but this was one that wouldn’t be able to be paid off. It would be a collar just as heavy and choking as Petrov’s and Three would enjoy jerking it to see the pain flash through his eyes at every mention. He took a steadying breath at the sheer panic that thought sent through him.

He pulled himself away from the door, he needed time away, time to think. Time that Yassen wouldn’t give him so he needed to take himself. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do, just something that would make him feel less...helpless _.  _ He could figure out  _ what _ later. For now, he just needed to _ go _ . He snatched his bag from the floor in his closet and pulled out the dye and contacts. Yassen knew of this cover but when...if he came looking for him there was little Alex could do to hide from him, disguise or not. The problem was others might be looking for him too and to be killed, or worse,  _ captured _ again after….no he would at least try to spare Yassen further embarrassment. He had done enough damage as it was. Still…..he needed to go. 

There would be no getting through Marcus at the door, not without sending up a million alarms because they had no doubt that their orders were to keep him safe but more importantly keep him  _ here _ . He knew Marcus well enough that after the Dacha he would be on high alert. There was only one place that might not be covered, mainly because there was no sniper to watch it anymore. He shouldered his bag and moved to the balcony. He had at least half an hour until Marcus came to check on him or Yassen got back. Either way, it would be enough for a start. He took a breath and began to climb. 


	5. Failure Part III - Sagitta

_ He needed to go - he couldn’t run, not when they had spent so much money and influence getting him back. More to add on to his debt but this was one that wouldn’t be able to be paid off. It would be a collar just as heavy and choking as Petrov’s and Three would enjoy jerking it to see the pain flash through his eyes at every mention. He took a steadying breath at the sheer panic that thought sent through him. _

_ He needed time away, time to think. Time that Yassen wouldn’t give him so he needed to take himself _

_ There was only one place that might not be covered, mainly because there was no sniper to watch it anymore. He shouldered his bag and moved to the balcony. He had at least half an hour until Marcus came to check on him or Yassen got back. Either way, it would be enough for a start. He took a breath and began to climb.  _

........

Something about the hot Dubai air was freeing, a stark contrast to the Russian winter that Alex had been pulled out of cold and shivering in only his boxers and a collar just a day prior. He knew he shouldn’t go anywhere - that he should take this brief foray to freedom as enough to satisfy that part of him that needed to feel...himself - but waiting at the apartment felt just a little too much like a dog waiting for his master to come home, and after all that had happened that comparison stung. 

Instead, he slipped into the garage. It was large and utilitarian compared to the opulent building towering above it, but no less secure. The security it had had before their arrival had been enhanced significantly. He’d be shocked if there was a single blind spot for him to hide in. Didn’t stop him trying to find one. He skirted around the edge, staying low and out of sight and eyeing the cars for a good ride. It didn’t take him long to select a Range Rover - sturdy, heavy, low to the ground, and down right pedestrian compared to some of the others that roamed the streets here. Perfect. 

He made light work of getting in. Then, with a few twists of a pocket knife, the steering column cover was off and he was faced with a familiar set of wire bundles. It was easy to spot the red battery wire but the ignition systems weren’t standardized - only hours of drilling by Ivey had helped him memorize what color to look for by make alone. 

A few knicks at the insulation had the wires exposed and a twist had them bound. A careful cut to the starter wire had that exposed too. Live. He touched the wires, frowning when there was nothing. Was the car dead? He spent a few seconds surveying the set up before it clicked. A few adjustments binding the battery and ignition tighter, and he was met with the roar of the engine the moment he touched the starter to it.

Alex breathed a sigh of relief pulling out of the spot as he buckled himself with one hand as he headed for the exit - mind already running through the map of Dubai he had committed to memory for a way out and hopefully to a few hours alone. 

A sand dune and the sea. 

A goal. 

The SUV crested the head of the ramp and Alex felt his heart stop. Just to the left of the mouth of the garage, just before Alex could mount the exit ramp to the street was an all too familiar white Mercedes and Marcus, leaning against it, deceptively calm. Eyes intent on him in silent challenge. 

Fuck. 

Even after everything with Petrov, Sagitta - or what was left of it - was still an elite strike team. One with Alex’s safety and Yassen’s expectations resting on their shoulders. And now there was a chip there too. Their sniper had been killed, their entire team captured - Alex should have known that they would be prepared. That  _ they _ wouldn’t want to fail again even if it was obvious that Alex had in underestimating them. 

Alex paused and shifted the car in park and Marcus relaxed too. He opened the door of the Mercedes, showing Alex that it was empty save Ivey in the driver’s seat. No Yassen. No full team. They would follow, no doubt, but Alex wouldn’t be coddled or pressured. 2 years together and Marcus seemed to know Alex better than he knew himself. 

Realistically, Alex knew he should go with them. If they had the car then they would take him anywhere he wanted and, so long as he stayed close, he would be safe. But he had been captured with them, had seen Shale killed because of him, and the idea of repeating the experience, of forcing them to be around the one responsible, made something twist inside of him, dark and ugly. 

He took a breath then shifted the car in drive, stomping the pedal down and cutting away from the Mercedes, up the exit ramp. The tires squealed as he turned onto the street to a cacophony of horns then floored it again, swerving neatly between cars.

It was only a matter of time before Sagitta would come for him and he needed as much space between him and Ivey as he could if he hoped to slip away. Usually he was grateful that it was on his side but right now all those skills he had been taught would and had kept him safe would be working against him. A highly trained driver in wide Dubai streets with a car that outweighed his by at least a ton. It wasn’t promising. But he was determined. 

He took a hair pin turn onto a side street, and then another, just as sharp at the next intersection he came to, shooting through the red light and barely missing the Ferrari clocking through almost as fast.  _ Zig Zag, lose line of sight as much as possible but don’t be predictable about it.  _ Evasive maneuvers had been drilled into his head by Adams but applying them in the streets was something else - and a look in the rearview mirror at the white car gaining on him was all it took to remind him just who he had learned it from. 

He just wanted to be alone. Nurse the wounds of his failure by himself. Why couldn’t they  _ understand _ that? 

He swung onto one of the main thoroughfares and cursed at the traffic backed up for the light - if he could jump the median, in between the palms…the Rover should be able to assuming the owner hadn’t fucked it up, he doubted it had seen any bit of rough terrain. He gunned it again, grunting as he was thrown in the air at the force of the crest but quickly swerving between the palms, and with another bump he was back in open road. The cross traffic in the intersection was heavy but with Ivey gaining it wasn’t as if he had a chance to slow down. Alex laid on his horn, spotted a gap and gunned it through. 

A crunch and the jerk of the wheel as the car spun told him he hadn’t quite made it. He turned back, regaining control, and, not letting up off the gas, shifted into the next gear. A glance to the side mirror showed no major damage - a dent and a piece of his bumper flapping. The main problem was that he was now even easier to spot. Nowhere to hide.

If he wanted to. Once again Alex thought about the possibility of giving in - of letting them take him. They weren’t there to hurt himD.And did he really think he could out-drive Ivey? The sensible thing would be to pull over, to let them bundle him into their car - 

It was the th

ough of it that made Alex’s foot press down - though it was already 

Unlee floor. The realisation that he’d be trapped in an enclosed space, with the very people he’d failed, was enough to make him want to vomit.

Inhaling sharply, Alex considered his options as cars blurred past him. Two streets up would get him on a highway and out of traffic - but Ivey would have the advantage with a more powerful car. But if he kept on this road swerving across medians and through red lights, it was only a matter of time until he got hit and the Mercedes could take a lot more damage…

He pried his eyes away from the road and risked a glance to the rear view. A flash of white gaining at his side.  _ Shit _ . Alex did his best to swerve as Ivey cut into his lane. It wasn’t enough. The Mercedes crashed sideways and the Rover shuddered, thrown across the lane. He turned the wheel sharply and threw the emergency brake briefly to stabilize.

Classic PIT maneuver, but recoverable.

A warning.

One Alex didn’t take. Barely glancing sideways, he ploughed doggedly on.

The second came much harder. This time Alex couldn’t correct; the wheel slid through his hands as the Rover spun across the front of the Mercedes. But the second the momentum slowed he jerked the wheel straight and accelerated, fishtailing, dangerously close to flipping but headed away from Ivey. He sped against traffic, swerving at the last second every time - anything to keep space until he could reach another side street and duck into one of the car parks without being noticed. 

But a glance back showed another tail. 

Mercedes. Another one.

And gaining quickly. Alex swerved again, not giving them one lane to target him. He didn’t know if the Rover could take another round of shunting. He eyed the car in the left lane; if he went around to the right it’d leave him open - He jumped the curb instead, riding on the sidewalk to speed past; but by the time he was clear the Mercedes was already in the lane next to him. 

Fuck. 

The light in front of them was green, but as they neared the intersection, the car pushed him closer toward the inside, trying to pin him. Alex threw the brake again and whipped a sharp turn through the intersection buying precious seconds. 

He might be able to - 

He was thrown to the side without warning, his thoughts abruptly cut off. He jerked back, seat belt snapping painfully against his chest. Another sharp jolt as the car that hit him pushed forward to block across the front.

He slammed into reverse, but it was too late. There was another car behind him. 

Boxed in. 

There’d be no going back, but if he could go forward…. He switched gears again, hitting the gas pedal. But the car in front barely budged, the Rover’s wheels spinning impotently where it was. 

Armoured too, then. 

Alex barely had time to realise it. With a crash and a splinter of glass, the driver’s window caved inwards, and he threw up an arm to protect himself. There was nowhere for him to go. A gloved hand reached through the gaping hole where the glass had been, unlocking the door; another cut roughly through Alex’s seatbelt. Then the door was pulled open and Alex was dragged out. He barely had time to draw breath before he was shoved face first against the Rover. Head pressed harshly against the back window.

He belatedly struck out, reaction slowed by shock. His wrist was caught easily, pinned to his back. Another hand wrestled the other. 

“Orion.” 

Marcus. Alex closed his eyes, unsure whether to be grateful it was him, or angry with himself for underestimating his strike team. Again. Harsh plastic was looped around his wrists and then tugged tight. 

Zip ties? 

“What the hell are you - ” he started furiously, but he didn’t have time to finish. A bag was roughly pulled over his head. 

“Doing our job.” The harsh retort was almost cut off by the roar of an engine and squealing tires; Alex missed the next bit. “-rek, wipe it down. Mace.” 

Something cold, and then the vicious stab of a needle in Alex’s arm. Sedative. They weren’t playing around. Alex wanted to object to the rough treatment, but even through his anger and frustration he knew why they were doing it. He was out of control; he’d run; he could no longer be trusted.

There was more movement, and then: “Let’s roll.”

Someone grabbed Alex’s arms. He stumbled as he was dragged back to the Mercedes; and then he was shoved roughly into the back and along to the middle seat as another body shoved in next to him. He heard the door slam shut.

“Go,” came the order next to him.

Adams, he realized a beat later than he should have; the drugs already slowing him down. He felt Adams lean over and buckle him in as the car started to move.

The silence in the car was tense. Alex did his best not to shift uncomfortably at his hands pinned behind him. In the car with Petrov being leered at had been worse, and he’d stayed still there, done his best to preserve his dignity. 

But with Sagitta it was different. Maybe the drugs in his system. Maybe because he did trust them even if he felt like he had broken that trust with Shale. Or maybe being hauled back a second time, captured and unable to escape - even if it was at the hands of his own team - had washed away the need to pretend to be tough.

Luckily they wouldn’t need to deal with him much longer. Yassen would see to that - that was, if Sagitta didn’t request different orders first. He probably wouldn’t even know which came first. Small mercies he should be grateful for.

They were still moving when the bag was, without warning, ripped away. Alex blinked in the afternoon sun flooding through the windscreen. It took a moment for his head to stop spinning. 

“Care to explain yourself?” It was asked casually from the front passenger seat. Marcus. He didn’t turn around.

Alex stayed silent. Partially because of the drugs but mostly because there was nothing  _ to _ say. All of that and he had ended up exactly where he had started. Feeling just as trapped and useless as when he had closed the door on Marcus the first time. 

“You were reckless.” Apparently Marcus saw fit to fill the silence for them. “You put us all in danger when we’re already one man down.” Even through the haze of the medication, Alex  _ felt _ that, unable to hide the wince that came with it. “If something had happened….”

Yassen would have killed them. He had paid a pretty penny to get Alex back once. If he had slipped from Sagitta’s protection again…even if nothing had happened and he had returned fine, if Yassen had found out, it would be a death sentence. One failure was excused, two wouldn’t be tolerated. Alex should have realised that. In his haze of self-pity and desperation, he’d only been focused on himself.

“I’m sorry.”  _ Never apologize  _ had been a lesson Alex had heard more than once but, given the circumstances, he thought he owed Sagitta that much.

Marcus turned in his seat. Alex caught an assessing gaze before it relaxed slightly. “We’ll talk more later. When you’re back to yourself and we’ve all had a chance to calm down.” 

The car fell silent again. A few minutes later, Ivey pulled up to the door of the apartment block Alex had climbed out of what felt like hours ago. It was Adams who pulled him out. He cut the ties at Alex’s wrists, and then caught him as he swayed. The hazy feeling of the medication was hitting hard, making everything spin with any sudden movement. A hand looped around his bicep, steadying him.

“Can you walk?” Mace had come around the other side of the car. His voice was soft; he was looking over Alex carefully.

“Yeah.” Alex’s voice was hoarse, flat. The arm was gone but Mace stayed close, Marcus falling in on the other side. Adams opened the door into the glittering lobby. 

They went unacknowledged by reception as they made their way slowly toward the bank of elevators. Alex kept steps careful, focused on the ground to keep another dizzy spell at bay. The elevator was already being held open and as soon as he’d stumbled in, he slumped back against the wall, using the railing to ground himself and regain his bearings.

He glanced up as the doors started to close. Hazily, he saw a couple start to dash forward and then stop short the moment Adams stepped in front of him. The doors pressed together, and Adams stepped back against the side again, keeping his eye carefully trained on Alex as the lift started to move. The others weren’t much better. 

“Anything hurt?” Mace asked. 

Not right now. But Alex imagined he’d be feeling it in the morning. He shook his head and gripped the bar tightly, closing his eyes as the lift tilted dangerously.

Silence fell; the only sound the soft chimes of the floors they were passing to keep them company. That and the thick tension Alex could feel even through the drugs. 

He wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or relieved when they reached the top floor and the lift doors opened. He wasn’t given a lot of time to think about it anyway as Marcus took his arm and pulled him out, setting off down the hallway they had walked only an hour before. 

They stopped at the locked door of the penthouse. Just the idea of recalling all the numbers and passcodes needed to get in made him want to be sick but he was gently shepherded to rest against the wall as Marcus pulled out his phone and started entering them. Probably got them from Yassen, Alex thought fuzzily, registering a few seconds later that that wasn’t a good sign. 

Marcus paused as he hit the biometric lock, and Alex finally looked up to see weary eyes studying him. They looked away almost at once. Alex didn’t offer any resistance as his wrist was grabbed. 

“We miss him too,” Marcus said softly, pressing Alex’s palm over the pad. “None of us could have handled losing another member right after - ”  _ Another member?  _ Maybe it was the drugs, but Alex got the distinct impression that Marcus meant  _ him _ . He blinked, confused, as Marcus finished: “So next time  _ talk _ to us.” Half order, half plea - but undoubtedly sincere.

Alex couldn’t muster more than a nod. It must have been enough because the door was swung open and he was gently pushed inside. He turned back to say something; he wasn’t exactly sure what - an apology, a thank you? - but the door swung loudly shut. 

And once again he found himself in an empty apartment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to Lupin for betaing. Couldn’t have done it without her. <3


End file.
